


Band of Brothers

by miraclemira



Category: MCU, Marvel
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4985953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraclemira/pseuds/miraclemira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU, story line similar to the mini TV series, "Band of Brothers". It's my inspiration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Camp LeHigh

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of these characters.

"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen is England now abed Shall think themselves accursed they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks. That fought with us upon Saint Crispsin's Day." -William Shakespeare. 

 

December 7, 1941, America entered the war against Japan and soon joined the war efforts against the devil, Adolf Hitler. Every man between a certain age group had their name put into a draft and when their number was called, they were shipped out to fight the war. Whether it was the European theater or the Pacific Theater was merely the luck of the draw. Either side had their advantages and disadvantages, no man was lucky. Luck was never apart of war, luck never had anything to do with war. Fate. Fate controlled who succumbed to war and who didn't. Soldiers wondered who was next to be taken into Fate's grasp. Would it be the man on your right? Left? You? Anticipation killed their bones and anxiety burst their hearts. If the enemy didn't kill them, battle fatigue eventually would. However, before any man goes and fights a war, he trains. Vigorously and relentlessly until they're ready to take on whatever is thrown their way. 

Steve Rogers, 25, was physically built by the time he received his commanding officer stripes of a Captain. When he first joined the war in 1941, he weighed less than 100 pounds and suffered from more asthma attacks than the Japanese dropped bombs on Pearl Harbor. He was under direct orders from General Chester Phillips to train a new recruitment team that had been drafted into the United States Army. Steve held no regret against not having been in combat since March 1942 when he was asked to come back and train, but sometimes he wanted to be back. Steve was just like the new 9 men that had been drafted to the Army, he had become brothers with his company and yet, they were no longer brothers. His closest friend at the time was a man by the name of James Rhodey who had also become a Captain but was shipped to the California coast in pursuit of the war against Japan. 

Steve stood in front of the 9 men, properly dressed and standing at attention. Steve liked them already. His Staff Sergeant handed him a clipboard and he read the names allowed. "I'm going to call out your names, I want you to respond with 'Sir.' I'm I clear?" 

 

"Yes, sir." They shouted in unison. 

"Private Juniper." Steve called and he answered. "Private Dugan." Again, he answered and Steve continued down the list, "Private Jones, Private First Class Pinkerton, Private First Class Sawyer, Private Morita." Steve then proceeded to smile at a few familiar faces, "Men, this is Corporal Falsworth and from the France, Corporal Dernier." He hugged them and laughed a little. "I'm missing a Private First Class Barnes." 

"He's taking a shit, Captain, Sir." Morita snickered as Jones spoke up. 

"Get to your barrack, soldiers." Steve shouted back, "We eat at o'six hundred." 

"Yes, sir." The soldiers marched to their barrack and began to chose the beds and talk among themselves. Steve let out a deep breath as his S.S. came and collected the board and any notes Steve has collected. 'Kid's gonna get his ass thrown into the fire if he ditched.' He thinks to himself as he opens the door and sees a boy, older than him by at least 3 years washing his hands. He's out of uniform and his dog tags hanging out of his shirt. Steve coughed to get his attention, "Private Barnes?" 

"Fuck off, Sawyer. M'tired of your fuckin' queer talk. I ain't gonna blow-" Barnes stopped dead in his tracks when he realized it wasn't Sawyer. His eyes looked down and then back up at the young Captain and his built body. Barnes studied his blue eyes, their piercing gaze defeated by the images he had seen from the war. "M'sorry... I- I"

"No apologies needed. We all make mistakes and this is your first day." Steve chuckled and held out his hand, "Captain Rogers."

"Buchanan Barnes, but everyone 'round here called me Bucky." Barnes replied shaking the blonds hand. 

"I'll be your Captain for the rest of the war until I die or you get shipped to another company." Steve's comforting smile never faded. "Your barrack is marked with a number 9, take your bags set up what you want. Dinner's at o'six hundred. Don't be late or I'm revoking any passes that come next weekend. 

"Yes, sir." Barnes replied with a salute and Steve saluted back. Bucky rushed out of the bathroom and into the barracks only to be bombarded with questions. You see, the Company may have been mostly men that had been drafted, but they were all scared. Most had families back home, children, and others had a girl back home. Training for war was the easy part, just pass the obstacles, the firing shots, hand to hand combat, etc. and you would survive the months of training. The questioned that remained was, would you survive the war?


	2. Howling Commandos

"The only hope you have is to accept the fact that you're already dead. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll be able to function as a soldier is supposed to function: without mercy, without compassion, without remorse. All war depends on it." -Lt. Ronald Spiers

 

Several months passed as the boys trained, drilled, laughed, drank, and whatever else a soldier wanted to do at the time. Their Captain, now under strict controls of Colonel Philips, was being shouted at across the mess hall. Philips was an unhappy man, no one knew why or how, but he always yelled Captain Rogers. 

"Sir, yes, sir." Steve saluted the Colonel when he told the Captain to halt. 

"Did I give you permission to leave, Captain?" He barked. 

"No, sir." Steve replied hastily, knowing full well the Colonel told him to dismiss. 

"Sit your ass down and start talkin' on why your boys are the only one's not doin' a damn thing around this base? You think you're training them properly? Do ya?" The Colonel spoke into Steve's face. He was harsh, unruly, but Steve took a deep breath and replied. 

"My men do what they're told, when they're told, sir." 

"Then tell them they have to jog up the mountain, now." The Colonel stepped back and dismissed Steve to round the crew and prepare them for the 15 mile run up and down the mountain. Steve knew they just stuffed their mouths full of food as it was dinner time and they were on their way to shower. 

"Sergeant." Steve called out. Buchanan, or as Steve recently learned Bucky, had been in the regiment for three or four months now and he had ranked himself up to Sergeant. Which in Steve's mind was impressive. Bucky Barnes was a good man, strong and confident, a leader, but he lacked something most higher up officers needed. Patience. 

"Captain." Bucky called back. 

"Tell the men to dress in running gear, they're going for a run up the mountain." Steve's voice held his commanding tone, a tone that made Bucky shutter a little in his knees every time Steve spoke. 

"What? It's 20 hundred hours, sir." Bucky questioned Steve's orders time after time, but Steve never grew impatient with the questioning. 

"Philips wants them up that mountain and back before 21 hundred. That's one hour, starting five minutes ago." Steve looked down at his watch, "I'll join you, just get them ready." 

"Yes, sir, Captain." Bucky smiled, saluted, and left. 

When they boys were dressed in their running gear, backpacks on and guns in hand, they complained constant complaints about their Colonel and sometimes even Captain. Sure, they liked Steve. He was fair, kind, great wingman when one of the soldiers wanted to have a night with a dame, and a great leader and strategist. He had yet to fail them in a practice battle they liked to play with other regiments, but he never disobeyed orders when it came to the Colonel. Pinkerton occasionally referred him as the good man trying to be a perfect soldier. 

"Keep it moving. Keep it going." Bucky would shout occasionally as they made their way up the mountain, "We don't make it back by 21 hundred and our weekend passes are spent." The shouting at to continue on was a great motivator to some of the men, Jones for example who was the first black man to be integrated within a white base, but for others it was annoying. Dugan, a British turned America, started to puke half way up the mountain and Sawyer was passing out. The regiment almost fell apart by the time they were half way down the mountain when Steve and Bucky came up with an idea. 

"Howl boys, you're almost there." Both of the officers shouted and as their commanders said so, they did so. They woke the whole damn camp, howling into the night as they returned back to their bunker. 

"Rogers. Barnes." Philips growled as he stepped out of his own bunker, staring at the rowdy boys walking inside and getting ready to sleep. The two boys reported and stood at attention. "Calm your Howling Commandos or else I'll calm them myself and it won't be pretty. Am I clear?" 

Barnes said nothing. 

"Sir." Steve spoke up, "Permission to speak freely?" 

"Dismissed, Captain." Philips turned around and walked back. Steve sighed a little, wanting to punch the Colonel and send him all the way back to wherever the hell he came from. Bucky looked over at him sheepishly. 

"Sir?" 

"Get some rest, Sergeant. We have more training tomorrow." Captain Rogers turned away, "Please." 

"Yes, sir." Bucky nodded shyly. 

Once inside, the team had overheard their Captain and Colonel trying to have a discussion and ended up keeping the name. Steve enjoyed being able to give his squad a name other than "Company 4" or even "4." When Steve arrived back at the Captain's barrack, he showered. It was quiet as he heard the water hit the bottom of the tile. Every time he closed his eyes, imagines of running came through his mind. He was fighting a battle, running away, panting. His regiment had surrendered, but he refused. The sounds of gun fire behind him making his heart leap faster, his legs move faster. Blood, sweat, and dirt mixed with each other causing all the wounds he gained to become more painful. A questioned rained in his head, it always rained in his head. Would he survive the war?


	3. Weekend Pass

"We're all scared. You hid in that ditch because you think there's still hope." -Capt. Ronald Speirs 

It was o'five hundred, the sound of Steve's light sleeping was disturbed by the sound of the door being roughly pushed open. 

"Captain." Philips pulled the covers right off of Steve, who instantly sat up and grabbed his hand held pistol. 

"Colonel. Don't fucking do that again." Steve had his gun pointed at the Colonel's face, ready to fire.

"Respect your officers, Captain, or I will have you de-ranked." Philips pulled out an envelope when Steve put his gun down. "Now, you've been sent this from overseas." 

Steve opened the envelop and his eyes widened slightly, "Sir, may we have weekend passes?" 

"Get your men dressed, you're going back to New York City at o'seven hundred." Philips saluted Steve, the first decent sign of respect Steve had received from the Colonel. It took Steve a few minutes to dress, his staring at the scars across his chest keeping him from concentrating. He brushed it off and walked to the boys barrack. 

"Get up boys. You've got an hour before we leave for the weekend in New York City." Steve's commanding voice echoed in their ears as they quickly packed and dressed for the weekend's leave.

When the boys arrived in the New York City, Dugan whistled at the view. They wandered around, eventually the group breaking up and agreeing to meet back at their apartments at 22 hundred the latest. Steve and Bucky has decided to go by themselves, leaving Juniper, Pinkerton, and Sawyer to go towards the bars and Dugan, Morita, Dernier, and Jones to go sight seeing then proceed to a bar. 

"You wanna go to a bar or somethin'?" Steve shoved his hands in his pockets, the awards and other miscellaneous patches hanging from his coat. 

"What? You don't wanna sight see?" Bucky looked surprised. 

"Born and raised in Brooklyn, no sight seein' necessary." Steve chuckled. 

"No way? I've from Brooklyn. Surprised we hadn't run into each other before now." Bucky smiled. 

"Me too." Steve laughed again, "C'mon there's a bar 'round the corner here. I know the bartender that runs the place." Steve took Bucky by the shoulder and pulled him inside. The two soldiers sat side by side on the bar stools. "Hey." Steve smiled up at the bartender. 

"Steve Rogers?" She smiled at him and laughed, "Can't believe you're all grown up now." All Steve did was laugh. "Who's your pal here? Or is he more than a pal?" Her eyebrows wiggled as Bucky tried to hide any blushing that appeared. 

"No, no. This is Sergeant Barnes." Steve patted his shoulder and laughed, "Mind getting us a round of beer. Only here for the weekend." Steve smiled and his quirked in he realized that his hand been on Bucky's back a little longer than it should have. Around the time they had their drinks, the two began to talk about past girlfriends and other things. Bucky's alcohol tolerance wasn't as strong as Steve's, so around 18 hundred hours, he was drunk.

"Stevie..." Bucky whined towards him, "Loosen up. You're a Captain and I'm a Sergeant. You need to get laid." 

"You offering?" Steve laughed a little. He liked to joke around with Bucky ever since they met. 

"What? Me? No... I couldn't." Bucky laughed, "Got my eyes on that dame right over there." He pointed towards the empty piano. 

"Yea? Don't think you got what it takes." Steve couldn't stop smiling and laughing. 

"Yea. Watch me, Captain." Bucky stood up and toppling over a bit, Steve catching him and helping him stand as Bucky walked towards the piano. Steve watched Bucky flirt with the piano, it was funny, honestly. Steve was never going to let Bucky forget this moment in his entire life. Before long, he was disrupted by the bartender again. 

"Does he know?" She asked him. 

"Know what?" He questioned back. 

"That you're into both genders, Steven." She raised a brow. 

"Only you know, Natasha, only you." Steve took another sip and watched Bucky continue to flirt with the old wooden piano. Steve smiled when Bucky began to play and soon more questions reigned, but at the moment one stuck, would Bucky survive the war?


	4. Surving

"He was there when he was needed, how he got 'there' you often wondered." -Unknown 

Their weekend of New York leave came to a closing when the sound of the boat's horn rang in the soldier's ears as they walked inside. Steve didn't tell them where they were going till the night before the end of their leave. Bucky remembered it clearly. 

"Boys." Their Captain stood in front of them as he read from a letter, "Company Four, otherwise known as the Howling Commandos will be shipped off to fight in Europe. They will leave at O'six hundred in New York Harbor and are permitted to enjoy their weekend leave." 

That's when's their hearts jumped. They prayed that night, that they didn't have to go. That the war would be over, but when they woke up. They packed their belongings and headed for New York Harbor. You see, training for war was the easy part. You didn't have to be afraid of anyone except your Captain, but war, oh war was far worse. War craved to eat away at your soul, begging for pieces of your heart and mind as table scraps. It damages you more than any trauma. They saw the damage in Steve, even if Steve didn't let the damage show, they knew it was there. 

When the Commandos were aboard, they joined seventeen other groups aboard the ship. They mingled, smoked, drank, played cards. Captain Rogers mainly kept to himself, unless a fight broke out or someone needed him. Bucky, their sergeant, watched to make sure none of his boys got into trouble. He knew Rogers would give them hell if he did.

"Dugan, pass me a smoke will ya?" Bucky shouted. 

Dugan tossed him a cigarette and a lighter, "When we gettin' off this damn boat?" 

"Beats me. Steve's busy with the other Captains. Probably gamblin' away who gets what job when we get to Europe." Bucky rolled his eyes.

"Nah, Steve likes you too much to do that." Pinkerton smirked and chuckled. 

Bucky shook his head, "No way in hell that's damn well true." 

The ride to England roughed them up, beat them down, tired their souls, but what kept their morale moving forward was their Captain. He never ceased to stop with the positive remarks. 

When they reached their base camp in the outskirts of England, along the coast, they were put into a practice battle field and told to reach their goal: capture their opponent. The Howling Commandos played this game before back at their base but with different rules. Steve assigned positions, Falsworth took the lead on map duty with Dugan assisting him, Dernier and Pinkerton carried the machine gun, Gabe translated the "foreign" documents they received, Juniper and Sawyer covered Barnes when he scouted and Morita scouted Steve as he gave them orders. After several rounds of practice, they remained champions and were placed as a special ops team to go in and take out smaller based or large machine gun stations wherever they were needed. 

"Boys." Steve called, "Pack your bags, we're going to Italy." 

"What for?" Sawyer asked. 

"There's a large ammunition and tank factory bordering the Alps, it's too close to a city to get bombed by air strikes and there's a POW camp near by." 

"So we blow the base up and release the prisoners?" Barnes asked. 

"Yea." Steve nodded, "We leave at o'nine hundred." 

"Captain." Falsworth stepped forward and looked at him. 

"Yes?" Steve looked back. 

"Are we going to survive?" Falsworth took a deep breath and Steve said nothing. His silence confused the team, but they let it slide. They knew war was a terrible thing, no one survived it.


End file.
